


Leap of Faith

by RedRiviera



Series: The Saint and The Scourge of Ylisse [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Awkward Crush, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fire Emblem: Awakening Spoilers, First Meetings, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Love at First Sight, Minor Character Death, Sparring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRiviera/pseuds/RedRiviera
Summary: The Shepherds wanted his help. With tensions mounting between Ylisse and Plegia, they needed every willing pair of hands they could get. But how could he truly commit himself to a war effort when his devotion to Naga was founded on peace and protection?





	Leap of Faith

In the days following Exalt Emmeryn’s forced suicide, Libra found himself without purpose. His faith in the Goddess - Naga, Ylisse’s spiritual saviour - did not waver in the slightest, but his Brothers and Sisters were slain alongside the Exalt by Plegian soldiers, leaving him alone in his agony. He’d lost everything he’d fought so hard to gain, so hard to protect in just a few, short hours. Luckily enough, the Shepherds welcomed him with open arms. _Stay,_ they pleaded. An extra mouth to feed was barely any trouble at all with Prince Chrom at the helm, and Libra could more than earn his keep. He was strong, fit, and as healthy as can be. An extra healer would be an invaluable asset to their party, especially one as capable as Libra, who didn’t need as much defending as their in-training clerics. But Libra was unsure.

He _was_ a War Monk, yes, but to become a full time soldier? Perhaps that would be going a little bit too far. Formally trained as a battlefield medic, he considered himself to be a protector rather than a fighter.

 _“Think of it this way,” Chrom started, gesturing towards his sheathed sword. “As I’m next_ _in line to the throne, the Shepherds are more than just a mismatched group of soldiers. Now, we are the Royal Guard, protectors of Ylisse, her crown and people. With your help, we’ll be stronger than ever! We’ll never have to worry about losing anyone ever again!” His smile was wide, almost convincing enough to make Libra think that he might be okay, but the light was gone from his tired eyes, heavy from sleepless nights and painful, empty days. Chrom was desperate to protect everyone, to atone for his failures; Emmeryn’s death would not be in vain if he kept everyone else alive and well._

In the end, Libra had asked for one more day.

He didn’t want to keep the Shepherds from their duties any longer than he already had. Soon, they’d return back to Ylisstol in order to plan their next moves, likely so Chrom could officially assume his late sister’s role as Exalt. Libra just needed one more day to decide whether or not he would accompany them.

* * *

 Following Gangrel’s massacre, the Shepherds fled east to the Plegia-Ylisse border; far enough from their previous battlegrounds to keep them safe, back on Ylissean soil. The tall dunes of the border sands kept them well hidden. Libra stayed with the Shepherds to help their soldiers recover from their last battle, as one of a handful of healers. Princess Lissa was excused from her clerical duties, giving her and Chrom enough time to breathe and properly grieve their fallen sister. Libra was quickly acquainted with the Shepherds’ remaining healers: a highly-strung noblewoman with an eye for Princess Lissa, and a red-headed merchant who barely restrained herself from bartering with her patients over pocket change and knick-knacks. Between the three of them, they had their hands full.

Tucked away in the privacy of his makeshift surgery, it was then that he had his first proper encounter with the Shepherds’ unusual tactician.

He’d seen her during the battle for Emmeryn, however briefly, and had even taken orders from her. Despite knowing nothing about him, she looked him up and down before settling with a _“you’ll do”_ , and then quickly set about barking instructions. Oddly enough, she seemed to know his practicalities and his limits better than he knew them himself, setting him up against mages, clerics, and lancers for most of the fight - he barely broke a sweat, fueled by adrenaline and unchecked rage towards Plegia's Mad King.

She was short. _Incredibly short,_ despite being a grown woman. Even the younger members of their barracks towered over her by a head or so, perhaps with the exception of a young shapeshifter that Libra hadn’t quite caught the name of. Her skin was eerily pale, and worryingly cold to the touch, as he discovered upon inspecting her hands and arms for injuries. She had a sigil tattooed onto the back of one hand, and her eyes were startling and bright; a foreign shade of copper he’d never seen before, bold against her pastel hair. As otherworldly as she seemed, she set him a little on edge, and it was only partly due to the mark of the Grimleal on her hand.

She stared ahead, looking past him rather than at him. Sat atop a collapsable hospital bed as he checked her over for wounds, saying nothing unless asked, unfazed by the intimacy of their situation despite being total strangers. Libra had been assigned almost exclusively men thus far, with the exception here and there, but the Shepherds' commander seemed to take no issue with being examined by a man she’d barely met.

“And you’re in no pain whatsoever?” Libra questioned, kneeling in front of her with a delicate hand around her right wrist. Grima's six eyes stared up at him, boring a hole into his head.

“None,” she confirmed, but she didn’t look at him. She continued to stare towards the back of the tent, looking almost vacant. It was quite troubling.

“One of your cavalry soldiers was here earlier,” Libra started. “He said you took a hit to the ribs from an Elwind tome, and that it knocked you down.”

She came out of her haze, even if momentarily. “Cavalry soldier?” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m fine. It was nothing.”

“Even so, General, please may I have permission to take a look?” He tried, asking as sweetly as possible. “It is my duty to see you Shepherds are all fit and healthy before I clear you for duty. No matter how small your injury, it will be no bother at all to treat, Miss…”

“Robin,” The General offered, finally meeting his gaze. Already missing her cloak and belt, she pulled up one side of her undershirt, holding it up just below her chest. “It’s nothing major.” She insisted, but Libra frowned. A myriad of spiralling bruises decorated her ribcage, blue and black and purple from where the magic had hit her square in the chest.

“Treatable,” Libra declared, “but risky to have kept to yourself. Are you uncomfortablebeing treated by a man, Miss Robin? Perhaps I should call for Lady Maribelle.”

Robin shook her head, but he didn’t miss the flicker of confusion that danced across her face when she finally turned to look at him. “Not at all,” she frowned. “It’s just nothing to worry about. Sumia took an archer’s arrow to the shoulder and fell from her steed, she needs the attention much more than me- and Gaius- Gaius almost blocked a polearm for Lon’qu with his stomach. Got away with a tear in his side, but it was still nasty to watch.”

“Both are in incredibly capable hands.” Libra reassured. “They’ll live, and recover well, I suspect. You shouldn’t neglect your own health for others. There are enough staves to go around, and just enough hands to use them, too.” From what he’d last heard, even Frederick and a pegasus knight named Cordelia had turned themselves to basic first aid to ease the strain on their healers. He reached for his Mend stave, and held it firm in his hands. “May I?” He asked. Robin nodded, and he pressed the crystal ball lightly to her bruised skin.

It didn’t take too long to fix, but as his magic eased her bruises away he heard her breathing deepen. Perhaps she’d had more difficulty coping than she’d first let on. He suspected she’d fractured a rib or two, so the healing must’ve been welcome. After he finished, the patterns on her ribcage had faded somewhat; staves and magic alone could not completely remove bruising, but they could act as a catalyst to the healing process.

“Thank you, Libra.” She sighed as he finished. “I needed that more than I thought.”

He was surprised that she remembered his name, but he didn’t say anything. “Anytime, General, but please, do take care of yourself and rest up.” He rose to his feet and offered her a hand. “If you find yourself needing to get patched up anytime soon - and I pray to Naga you don’t - please, do not hesitate in coming to find me. I shall be here for another sunrise, at least.”

She took his hand and slid off the bed. “And if you have any requests, or questions about our operations, please don’t hesitate in coming to find me. Chrom said you had reservations about joining us?” That dull, hollow look hadn’t quite washed away from her face, but she looked more lively and awake after her healing. She had a mischievous sort of air about her now, although Libra still felt an undercurrent of melancholy. He flushed scarlet at the mention of his uncertainty.

“Please don’t get the wrong impression,” he spluttered. _How undignified._ “I’m merely unaccustomed to this much war and bloodshed- yes, I believe I am capable enough as a healer, and I am a war priest, but we are lowly defenders, not-”

“Slaughterers?” Robin raised an eyebrow, letting go of his hand. “Brother Libra, what do you think we are, if not defenders ourselves? We are keeping Ylisse safe from invaders, safe from Plegia and the Mad King. Make no mistake, we are not warbringers. We take no joy in our business.”

Libra chewed on his lip - a nervous tick he hadn’t quite erased from his time with his first family - and internally scolded himself for his lack of manners. “No, milady- I did not mean to imply such things.” He hedged. “My deepest apologies. What I mean is- the most recent skirmish with Gangrel is more than I’ve ever experienced before. I’m not a trained soldier. I began my ax training as a woodcutter for the parish church. I am afraid that I am not a skilled enough fighter to serve you, is all.”

Robin bristled slightly, but then seemed to decide against whatever outburst she was ready to attack with. She settled down, and nodded. “Well, Priest- we have turned farmhands into mercenaries in mere weeks. I’ve seen the way you swing that axe, and it’s nothing to turn a blind eye to- you have a both a healing touch and a domineering one, should someone oppose you, and we would be honoured to have such a capable man on our side. We do not want Plegia to suffer, and we do not attack civillians. All we want is for Gangrel to keep his bloodlust out of our borders.”

Perhaps it was because she was appealing to his masculinity, but he wanted to hand himself over immediately. Under the protection of such a formidable General, surely serving the Shepherds would set him off in the right direction - he’d have a roof over his head, and coin to spare (not that he cared much for it anyway, but it would be enough to feed himself and those in need, should he come by any), and afterwards, perhaps he could appeal to Exalt Chrom’s court and advocate for charitable causes with Ylisstol - Lady Robin seemed like a fair and just tactician, willing to shoulder any burden to provide better for her men and women. He could get used to the company of such a lady.

“I-” he started, eyes wide and blank and dumb, like a fool. “I-I would- I mean, the honour is mine, milady.” He managed, peering down at her cautiously. “My colleagues were all killed in that skirmish. I have nowhere else to go, I suppose.”

“Their sacrifice will not be in vain, I assure you.” She promised, reaching up to hold his shoulder. He flinched slightly, before she even touched him, and she retracted her hand without batting an eyelash. “Do you have any more reservations?”

“When this war is over, there’s no telling how many children will be orphaned,” Libra began, losing his previous hesitation. “I would like to discuss… _arrangements_ with Chrom, so that Ylisse’s crown and council has a hand in helping those less fortunate rebuild from whatever suffering I help inflict, on our own soil and that of wherever we go, Plegia included.”

“Admirable. Consider it done, Chrom would love to have an audience with such a lovely clergyman once we are back at the capital.” Robin smirked, all light, sugary hair and smoldering eyes, and Libra felt his stomach twist itself into knots. And then he noticed how distinctly Plegian her features were, the small, delicate nose, the narrow eyes, wide shoulders and stocky frame typical of an axewoman- how hadn’t he seen it earlier?

She left his tent with a twirl, turning on her heel. “Come speak to me later, Libra.” She commanded. “And we’ll sign you up together, yes?”

“Understood, General.” He forced out with a parched throat and dry lips. Stahl was the next patient to arrive at his doorstep - the young man who’d tipped him off to Robin’s injury in the first place - and his concern somehow reached out even to Libra. Apparently, he looked like he needed a lie down, and perhaps he did.

* * *

Later that evening, Libra decided to pay General Robin a visit in her tent.

He anxiously paced back and forth outside the entrance, before mustering up the courage to make himself known. He cleared his throat and rapped his knuckles against the canvas. “General Robin,” he called out. “It’s Brother Libra. May I speak with you please?”

“Of course- you may enter!” She called out, and he wondered if her formalities extended to the rest of the Shepherds.

Her tent was clearly a rushed job, assembled quickly like everyone else’s, but it was still distinctly her’s. She had a wide mahogany table shoved to one corner, butchered with small knives pinning the corners of maps, and still-lit candles dripping hot wax onto the parchment. Towards the back was her cot, messy and chaotic, with a small pile of clothes dumped at the foot. In the middle, she had a makeshift office set up, complete with a small desk for her to work at, and two chairs opposite one another. She’d already poured two cups of tea, and was rifling through an intimidating stack of papers.

She smiled as he entered, staring him in the eye, seeming more focused and alert than she had been earlier. Less distracted. “Libra,” she started, standing up from her desk. “Good evening.” She held out her hand, and he shook it firmly.

“Good evening to you, too, General.” Libra nodded.

“Please,” Robin’s smile stretched thin, like she was holding back a grimace. “Call me Robin. None of this ‘General’ or ‘Tactician’ stuff.”

“If you insist,” Libra obliged, “Lady Robin.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but held her tongue.It was a wonder that she could find anything in the mess on her desk, between the stacks of paper, the occasional tome, and several pots of ink. Libra resisted the urge to cap some of the open bottles, fearing her long sleeves would catch one of them and ruin her paperwork, but he supposed she liked her desk how it was. She offered him a cup of tea, which he graciously accepted - a lavender blend, to calm the nerves - whilst she searched about for the relevant papers. It took about as long as he expected.

“Ah, here they are.” Robin grinned, victorious, and Libra wondered if this was the grin that made her enemies’ blood run cold. She settled back down at her desk and picked up a quill, dipping it in crimson ink. “Now, first things first: your name. Libra, L-I-B-R-A, yes?”

“That would be correct,” he confirmed. 

“Any surnames?”

“Not presently, no.”

There was no judgement on her face. “Understood.” She mused. “You’re not the only one here without one. Age?”

“Twenty-six,” Libra replied, “and male.” He’d tried to read ahead on the boxes she was filling in, somewhat concerned with how much information he was sharing. And so they continued, through birthplace, ethnicity, height, weight- every single detail that made him him. Robin assured him that the information was crucial for identification purposes, and then she went about reading every term and clause he was about to bind himself to.

“...And any risk accepted by the enlisting party is solely their responsibility, lifting any and all repercussion from the Ylissetol Military, Prince Chrom of Ylisse, and the Exalted House of Ylisse. The enlisting party must abide by all of the above conditions. Is everything alright, Libra, or would you like me to clarify anything else?” Robin stopped to catch her breath, having read through an entire scroll’s worth of conditions that Libra barely managed to stay awake through. In her lecturing, she’d moved around the tent to keep herself busy, and ended up standing in front of him, leaning back on her desk. She was a little too close for him to be comfortable.

“No, that’s quite alright.” He reassured, trying to look alert as well as pensive, like he’d heard everything and taken it all in. Then she passed him the script and quill, and showed him where to sign before stepping aside, giving him full access of the desk. He wrote his name in looping cursive, neat and delicate in contrast to her rushed scrawl. Signing his name in scarlet ink made him think of blood, and how appropriate it was considering the job he was taking on.

“Perfect.” Robin sighed, taking the papers. She walked back around to her side of the desk, before unlocking a drawer, and sealing his application away for good. It was done. “Now you’re all signed up, I’ll see about introducing you formally to the rest of the barracks, and we’ll get you a proper tent set up next time we move. Do you have any belongings you need to collect from home?”

“No,” Libra confessed. “I need my staves and my faith. The rest is expendable. After all, objects are temporary, are they not?”

“Yes, but isn’t everything temporary in war?” Robin countered, and Libra’s heart sank a little. “It shouldn’t be too much trouble, honestly. We could send a few members of our Pegasus Brigade out with you to make the journey shorter.”

“It’s quite alright.” Libra insisted.

Robin stared down at Libra’s papers, looking a little perplexed. “Very well then, if you insist. But know you’re allowed to find happiness in your surroundings, especially here. Whatever keeps you going.”

Libra quietly sipped on the remaining dregs of his tea. It had long gone cold, but holding the teacup and saucer kept his hands busy as Robin gave him a run down of what would happen next: a physical fitness assessment with Frederick, a mental fortitude assessment with Cordelia, a magic adeptability assessment with a woman named Miriel…

And then, the General caught him off guard: “Welcome home, Libra.”

He only hoped that this one would last.

* * *

He all but stumbled out of her tent after their meeting, keeping his gaze to his boots as she followed him to the door with tired words of goodbye and goodnight. He thanked her for her thoroughness in her work, and suddenly became aware of their drastic height difference when, stood beside him, she barely came up to his chest. He swallowed hard, and rushed off to his temporary quarters, chalking up his anxiousness to the whirlwind of a day he’d had.

That night, he slept fitfully, plagued by nightmares of the surname he once bore, of the cold floor his mother used to beat him into, the same one he was born on. No amount of scrubbing could wash his blood out of the floorboards.

* * *

In the morning, Prince Chrom came to his tent to properly thank him for his enlistment. Heshook his hand eagerly - oblivious to Libra’s natural hesitation - but it wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t everyday Libra got to shake hands with royalty, after all, and he’d already slipped on his weight-lifting gloves for the day ahead. He was thankful for the reduced skin-on-skin contact.

“Robin notified me of your signing last night,” Prince Chrom explained, still with an iron-tight grip on Libra’s hand. “And I can’t thank you enough for deciding to join us. There’s strength in numbers, after all, and you’ll be an asset to us all!”

Libra faltered slightly, trying to think of something to say. Prince Chrom had brightened up considerably since their previous conversation. “I’m flattered,” Libra managed, steeling his nerves. “It was an honour to be considered as a candidate in the first place, Your Highness. I can only hope you’ll find a good use for me.”

Prince Chrom visibly stiffened. “Please, Libra, call me Chrom. We’re all equals here.” He dropped Libra’s hand and reached to place a reassuring palm on his shoulder. Libra took a deep breath through his nose in preparation, willing himself not to flinch. “Ylisse is indebted to you. Now, if you’re ready, Robin and I would like to introduce you to the rest of the Shepherds as an official recruit.”

* * *

 Already dressed in his war priest uniform, Libra dutifully followed Chrom to the mess hall, where most of the Shepherds were still eating breakfast.

“Don’t worry,” Chrom reassured before they entered. “They’ll all love you, and you’re not the only new recruit.”

Libra had to duck his head as he entered the tent, but once inside it was tall enough for him to manage. Frederick was the only person in the army Libra had met who surpassed him in height thus far, but he was certain that some of the other men at the very least had to struggle in some of the smaller tents.

“Ah, there you are, Chrom, Libra.” General Robin smiled. She stood across from the rest of the Shepherds, who were all seated at long dining tables, some still eating as she addressed them. She stood on two sealed boxes - a makeshift podium - and had a slender woman leaning over her, clinging to her arm possessively. “Looks like we’re ready to begin.” Robin declared.

“Indeed.” Chrom nodded, and motioned for Libra to come and stand inbetween himself and Robin.

“Everyone,” Robin started, speaking loud and clear to ensure her comrades could hear her properly. “I’d like to introduce you to our newest recruits- Tharja and Libra.”

A chorus of cheers and claps had Libra’s cheeks on fire. He tried to compose himself, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Tharja, would you like to introduce yourself?” Robin asked, untangling herself from her new friend.

Tharja stood with a yellow book clutched to her chest, something Libra vaguely recognised as a Elthunder tome. She had long, jet-black hair, and a sweeping cape that she’d pulled around her shoulders. “What’s there to know?” Tharja countered moodily, and Libra got the impression that she wasn’t much for conversation, but Robin frowned at her with pouted lips. Tharja looked away, embarrassed. “I’m a dark mage, from Plegia. Don’t get in my way, and I won’t hex you.” She begrudingly explained.

Robin closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “Isn’t she great?” She insisted, forcing her enthusiasm. Assimilating Tharja into the Shepherds would take some work. “As some of you may remember, Tharja was forcibly recruited into Gangrel’s army, but she defected to us out of choice. Don’t worry, we have countermeasures in place to detect infiltrations, and Tharja is the real deal! Plus, she’s a really powerful mage. I’m sure she’ll do wonders, with our direction!”

Tharja harrumphed, gaze averted from the intrigued crowd. She stuck close to Robin on her little podium.

“And this- is Libra,” Robin introduced, gesturing Libra over to stand by her side. She searched his eyes for approval before she laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and he smiled a little for subtly asking for permission. Even with her new, higher position, she still had to reach up to hold his shoulder.

Libra took a deep breath. “Hello.” He greeted his audience. “I’m a healer from the Ylissean Border Monastery, in service of Her Ladyship, Naga. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

He could pick out some familiar faces in the crowd - Princess Lissa, Frederick, Maribelle, and Anna, plus the two pegasus knights that had gone out of their ways to meet him yesterday, Cordelia and Sumia, who now had her left shoulder wrapped - they all smiled back, and Libra thanked Naga for the small mercy of their welcoming behaviour. As beaten and battered as the Shepherds were, they owed him no kindnesses- but still, they were pleasant and patient listeners.

Robin squeezed his shoulder in encouragement. “Libra here also assisted us in our most recent skirmish. He’s not only a healer, but an axeman, which we could definitely use more of these days.”

“Aw, ain’t ol’ teach enough?” One man near the front guffawed around a mouthful of eggs, only to be elbowed in the side by a red-headed woman.

“Unfortunately not, Vaike.” Robin smiled sympathetically. “With Gangrel’s power only growing, we need all the help we can get with the war effort. Any able hands are invaluable, and so I hope you welcome Tharja and Libra with open arms!”

“Of course!” Princess Lissa chirped from beside Maribelle, who sipped delicately from a teacup. She had dark circles around her eyes, and she looked like she was forcing herself to cheerful through her misery. But still, she tried. “Welcome, Tharja and Libra!”

Another round of cheers later, and Robin dismissed the Shepherds. She sent Libra off to secure himself some breakfast, before taking Tharja to one side to meet with Miriel, the Shepherds’ lead researcher and the assessor of the magical adeptability test. Still feeling a little overwhelmed, Libra took two apples and headed back to his tent, wishing to collect his thoughts a little before trying to socialise with his new comrades.

* * *

A few hours passed. Chrom later returned to his tent to inform him that all of his testsvwould take place tomorrow, as Tharja’s sign-up had been processed earlier, and they each needed a full day to be properly assessed. Fair enough. From then on, he expected an uneventful afternoon.

That was, until his new commander showed up at his tent for the second time in twenty-four hours, slugging two training axes behind her.

“Libra!” She called from outside his tent. “Open up!”

He couldn’t for the life of him figure out her intentions. For one, saw was a swordswomanand a caster, and didn’t seem at all accustomed to axes- what, with the way she dragged them against the dirt. But here she was, standing opposite him with a toothy grin. Already, she spoke a lot more casually with him.

“Lady Robin, what a surprise.” He ignored the flash in her golden eyes when he addressed her. “Can I help you?”

“You can.” She pivoted one of the ax handles his way. “You have a free day, yes? Then take this. Spar with me.”

Libra hesitated, staring at her weapons of choice - two bronze axes, bladed on one side - simple enough. “Forgive my bluntness, I don’t mean to sound rude- but are you trained in axe-fighting?”

Robin shrugged her shoulders. “Not as much as I’d like to be.” She admitted. “But I try to spruce myself up on a little bit of everything- I have an army to look after, so it makes sense that I know the basics of each weapon class, at least. I’m no Frederick- or even Cordelia, for that matter. But I try.”

He weighed up his options, and considering refusing. He didn’t want to outwardly defy a superior on his first day of enlistment, but the whole thing seemed a little imbalanced to him. “You’re trained in the sword, yes?” He asked, just to confirm that he hadn’t imagined her fighting style from the battle for Emmeryn.  

“I am.” Robin nodded.

“Then take up your blade.” Libra insisted. “The ax is much too slow and obtuse to out-maneuver the sword. Surely by making me work harder, you’ll get a better idea of my capabilities.”

She lapsed into silence for a few seconds. “Alright.” She agreed. “But I’ll switch later, and we’ll fight on even-footing. And you have to stop calling me ‘Lady’, alright? This is a bonding excercise as well as a test, so I can get to know my newest recruit.”

Libra nodded, but promised nothing.

* * *

 “Are you ready?” Robin swung her sword in practice, loosening up her arms and wrists.

“Yes.” Libra nodded. “Are you, commander?”

“Come at me.”

She made no move to attack, but instead readied herself into a defensive position as he rushed her. He swung his ax _once, twice_ \- horizontally, across the body to force her to block or retreat, and again from above as punishment for any ground she lost. Instead of folding, she fended him off with relative ease, pushing back hard on the flat of her blade before dancing just out of reach of his second attack, and then she spun forwards. She held her blade like it weighed nothing, and then he noticed the slight green glow to her hands - wind magic, likely to keep herself and her weapon steadied, to lessen the weight - she crossed twice, _swipe, swipe_ , just missing him each time as he backed off. And then she lunged, sinking low with her blade punching through the air. He brute-forced it away, batting it to the side with the flat of his ax.

“Nice moves!” Robin called, readying her blade in front of her defensively. “But can you handle _this?”_ The green glow to her blade turned golden, as she held her free hand to the air. The sky darkened impossibly fast, crackling and humming with energy.

 _Unfair_ , Libra thought to himself, but he didn’t dare voice his displeasure. “A lady of many talents, it would seem.” He offered, watching her with cautious eyes. He charged at her, launching his ax towards her middle in a furious arc, but instead of darting away she held her ground. In the blink of an eye, she passed her sword between her hands, letting her newly-charged fist close around the grip. The blade sparked, and collided with Libra’s ax, sending bolts of electricity showering over both of them. Despite his impressive constitution, Libra was knocked back and sent staggering by the force of their clash. For all it was worth, Robin suffered from the recoil too, but the tactic put some distance between them.

“Better than I expected,” Robin muttered under her breath. Libra wasn’t sure whether she was referring to him, or her little lightning show, but the knockback from their clashing blades had her breathing a little heavier. She didn’t give him a chance to reply before she sent out another lightning bolt, aiming right for his head.

Libra dropped, sinking down to one knee in order to avoid losing an eye. “I thought this was training!” He hissed, sounding a little less composed than before.

“It is,” Robin insisted. “Perhaps it isn’t fair since we haven’t examined you yet, but this is all fun and games compared to Frederick’s regimes!”

So she wanted to run him a little ragged, see what he was truly made of. Alright. Libra did a quick calculation in his head- it was worth a shot. Without thinking too much about the success rate of his next attack, he hoisted his ax high over his head, behind his shoulders, before heaving it as hard as he could at his opponent. He barely had time to savor the panic in her eyes as she threw herself hard to the left, landing painfully on the ground. “Unfair!” She screeched. Libra didn’t bother to mask his amusement. His aim was impeccable. If she were a second slower, she’d be in two pieces.

Already, this woman was bringing out a darker side to his usually passive personality. He never thought much of fighting, for dominance, fitness, or fun, but here he was, indulging in his long since buried competitve streak that he thought he'd lost years ago. “Shall we call it even?” He offered, tiring a little. But Robin was back on her feet with fire in her eyes and an iron grip on her blade.

She held both hands in front of her, her sword pointing to the sky. “Thoron!” She shrieked, and a blast of lightning shot from her hands in a thick column.

Libra knew he wasn’t quick enough to evade the spell’s path, so he did the next best thing and reached for the staff strapped to his back. He whispered a quick word of prayer to Naga, and thrust the blunt end of his staff into the ground in front of him.

Dust filled the training grounds, choking Robin. She held one of her sleeves in front of her eyes, and coughed violently into the elbow. _Perhaps she’d gone too far_. “Libra…?” She called out to him, a little afraid. When he didn’t respond, she yelled for a healer.

But the dust cleared, and Libra stood tall, unscathed, with his shoulders and back straight, and his head held high. His pale hair fluttered about on static energy, and his gaze was strong and piercing, green and gold and unwavering. He'd taken the hit square in the chest, but didn’t look phased at all. In that moment, Robin swallowed down her admiration and disbelief. He was ethereal, something sent down from the heavens above by Naga herself; a shining light in the all-consuming dark, a blessing for their patchworked army. “How did you..?” Robin gawked, slack-jawed and open-mouthed, looking like a fool.

“Faith is the strongest of shields,” Libra explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It seems my healing is stronger than your thunder.”

Robin flushed, trying to shake of the fire that raged in her chest, embarrassed. “You healed yourself through _that_?”

Libra nodded, and spun his staff with a flourish before returning it to its holster on his back. He reached for his ax, which he’d planted into the ground out of Robin’s line of fire. He carried it with as much ease as Frederick carried his, and Robin was left to wonder how anyone ever insulted his masculinity with arms like _those_.

“What the devil are you two _doing_?”

“Maribelle?”

“You’ll get the poor boy killed!”

 _Of course._ In her worry, she’d called for the nearest available healer, and now Maribelle was standing just outside of their training grounds, pointing her parasol at Robin accusingly. “His first day as a new recruit, and you’re already running him ragged like a dog!” Maribelle fretted, coming closer as soon as it became apparent that both parties had fallen into a ceasefire. “Look at you both! Covered in scratches and bruises!”

Libra was immediately flooded with guilt. Robin had not long been healed by his own hands - she was probably still bruised up - and yet, at the chance to see her for just a little bit longer, he’d completely ignored his own insistence on her taking some time out to rest. He risked a quick glance at her face; he’d managed to catch her once, from what he could tell, probably with the very corner of his ax’s flared end. A small trickle of blood leaked from a horizontal cut under her right eye.

“Perhaps you’re right, Maribelle.” Robin rubbed at her cheek, looking anywhere but her medic’s eyes. She smeared a line of blood under her cut, and Libra was reminded of the sinister mark adorning one of her hands, under those protective gloves; two lines on her cheek, mocking him. Two additional mutant eyes, laughing, watching.

“I’m sorry, Libra." Robin piped up, knocking his train of thought out of his head. We should go get patched up.”

“I’m in good health, I assure you.” Libra smiled gently, reassuringly, in an attempt to relieve Robin of Maribelle’s harsh gaze. “I’m so sorry to have caused you concern, Lady Maribelle. Please, go back about your day, and I will have Lady Robin in top condition at once.”

Maribelle stopped wielding her parasol like a weapon and held it over one shoulder. “Very well.” She relented, satisfied by his eloquent apology. “But do take more care in your sparring, dear commander, or need I remind you that you lack the experience of our army’s officially appointed instructors?”

“Of course, Maribelle.” Robin grinned. “I wouldn’t want to step on poor Frederick's toes, after all.”

* * *

 They returned their equipment to Cordelia, who was managing their weapons stock for the day, and shuffled back to Libra’s tent for a check-up. Incredibly, Libra was at-ease as he had felt in years, as comfortable in his own skin as he could remember. The young woman at his side was cheerful and energetic, despite her aching bones, and bounced with every step.

“I can’t believe you stayed standing through that Thoron spell.” She sounded a little disappointed, but she was smiling; Libra didn't take it personally, even if their training had gone a little overboard.  “This’ll be a ridiculous advantage to use on the field! A healer as experienced as you, able to withstand advanced magical warfare- _and_ you can counterattack!” Robin continued to gush.

Libra chuckled quietly to himself. He could feel his face heating up from the praise - something he was fairly unaccustomed to. “Please, the pleasure was all mine, Lady Robin,” he couldn’t help but smile. “You're certainly a skilled sorceress, and your skill with the blade is undeniable. Where I not trained as a priest, I wouldn't have withstood your lightning.”

She beamed, and Libra swallowed hard- her sparkling eyes reminded him of better days, bright and full of cheer in the summer sun that bore hot against the back of their necks. Her short hair bobbed with every step, delicately framing the soft contour of her jawline. “Thank you. I daresay, we could make quite the team! With your resistance to magic and healing, and my tactics and head-on attacks- we could fill in each other’s weaknesses, don’t you think?”

With the way she looked up at him, who was Libra to disagree? And then he realised that he’d felt this feeling before- this affection welling up within him, too fast, like water climbing up a river bank- for the first time since his teenage years, Libra had a crush.

He couldn’t help but feel a little bit juvenile. Even once they arrived at Libra’s tent, and Robin sat atop the hospital bed opposite his own sleeping quarters, she rattled on and on about tactics and uses for his resistances, how she thought he was going to fare on the upcoming tests, and her plans for how he’d fit in their army. Libra nodded and hummed and reaffirmed when she needed him to, as he ran his healing hands across her arms and face.

“O Naga,” he whispered in prayer as he traced his thumb across the cut on her face. “Gift unto us, Your faithful, the power to rehabilitate the wounded, the broken, the damned, to restore our bodies and our spirits, so that we may devote ourselves entirely to You once more.”

He held her face for a fraction of a second too long. She stared at him with hopeful eyes, and he could feel himself starting to drown in her gaze.

“I’m glad you’re staying with us, Libra.” She told him in a quiet voice, only for him to hear. “And I’m glad we met.”

 _Heavens above,_ he was doomed.

**Author's Note:**

> i started replaying awakening and i just can't bring myself to marry anyone else but libra. 
> 
> there aren't too many libra/robin fics on this site (or in general) so i wanted to contribute! this is gonna be part one of a series, The Saint and the Scourge of Ylisse, which will focus around how Libra and Robin's relationship may have developed. depending on interest, it's probably going to be very self-indulgent (am i finally writing for a rarepair??) im really not expecting any readers lmao.
> 
> i currently have an octopath fic on the go, which is my main priority (trust and consideration NEEDS chap 3 aaaah)- i'm sorry if anyone was waiting for that, but like i've said over on my twitter (@redriviera) i'll have it up within the week <3 also hmu on twitter if you feel like it! i need to engage more with fire emblem over there


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